


Chained Up

by fabricdragon



Series: Smooth Criminal [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Best Friends, College, F/M, Hacking, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Platonic BDSM, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash, Relationship(s), Suicide Attempt, kpop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Before he was the youngest Quartermaster of MI6, who was Q?





	1. Haru Haru

He was trying to find his classroom.  He’d wanted to be early but it turned out he was in the wrong building, and so he slipped into class just under the wire. _Damn, I’m not going to be able to get to the professor before roll call…._

“Absher, Carl,” the professor read out, without looking up. 

“Here,” someone answered.

He winced. _Right, here it comes…_

“Alan, Quatermain… oh, that’s not at all funny!”  The professor got out a pen to strike through the name as several people laughed.

“I’m afraid it’s not a joke, sir.  Or if it was, it was by my parents.”  He sighed. “May I ask you to please call me Riley? It’s my middle name.”

“Are you serious?” The professor looked over at the insanely young boy with the shaggy brown hair, heavy glasses, and oversized sweater. “Are you even supposed to be in this class?” 

“Yes, sir, I graduated early.” He hated looking his age. “I’m sixteen, Sir.”

The professor just raised his eyebrow and went back to going down the list.  After class he hurried out to try to head off the NEXT teacher.  He managed to head off about half of them.

He got to the dorms, and found out that his roommate was apparently not back yet, and a complete slob.  He sighed and went to find the dorm manager.  They told him he had to give it at least a week, and then they could try to change him out.

_God, I HATE School._

*

He lasted three days. Three days of his roommate coming home, usually drunk, making a worse mess. When he found someone trying to use his computer though, he blew up.  It ended up in threats to file charges, and going to the dean, and two days of him staying in a hotel –and presenting the bill to the university‑before they transferred him to a shared dorm room with another student. They put him in the “almost apartments” for foreign exchange students‑ it was the only place they had.

*

“I’m called Riley,” he said suspiciously when he arrived, boxes and bags stacked up around him, at his new roommate.

“Don’t like your name?” he said in a Russian accent that sounded sexy as hell. _Oh no, he sounds like a spy movie._

The fellow turned around and stood up.  _He was gorgeous._ He had one side of his head shaved close, and a long fringe of bangs falling on the other side.  He was blond, and had the bluest eyes ever.  Riley tried not to whine.

“I’m Taavi,” he grinned. “And you are named after a fictional explorer.”

Riley groaned. “PLEASE call me Riley?”

“Alright. Riley.  Need a hand?”

Riley looked around at the more usual looking room: it wasn’t as neat as Q might hope, but, it wasn’t bad. “Please.”

Taavi looked impressed at some of the electronics. “This is for you?”

“Yes.”

Taavi grinned. “I will destroy you on Warcraft.”  He waved at his computer, showing the familiar logo of Orcs & Humans.

Riley grinned, “I’ll wipe up the floor with you.”

Three hours later, the only thing Riley had unpacked was his computer; they’d ordered pizza, and were trying to destroy each other on the Warcraft, while sitting five feet away from each other. They both liked K-Pop.

Taavi was T, and Quatermain Riley Alan was Q, and they were brilliant together, and no one else in Warcraft stood a chance.

College was looking better.


	2. Love Equation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q meets his very first dangerous bad boy, and almost dies  
> TW suicide attempt, slight other self harm

He’d been at University for half a year when he met his first.  His name was Edward: he was older; in the chemistry department; rode a motorcycle; wore leathers; and Riley was in love with his first bad boy.  The problem was that Peter didn’t just look like a bad boy, he was one.

By the time Eddie walked away‑or more accurately, left college, told Riley he only screwed him to get his homework done and because he was good with computers‑ Riley was a shell.

Taavi found him after he’d taken half a bottle of pills, made him throw up, and called some girl named Nikki.  They stayed with him until they were sure he would survive, and then made him go to counseling. He withdrew from classes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked boys?” Taavi asked him, about a week later.

“I was afraid you’d be upset about rooming with me,” Riley said quietly.

Taavi sighed, “I’m gay.”

Riley stared at him for a long time and then started laughing; it finally devolved into crying. Taavi sat on the bed and patted his back.

“Did you know your accent is sexy as hell?” he asked him, later, over tea.

“Yes.” Taavi grinned.

“Have you ever read User Friendly?”

“What?”

He got Taavi hooked on User Friendly and made him read Pitr’s lines: it helped sometimes. Riley had to be dragged out of their apartment, but eventually Taavi and Nikki‑who turned out to be in Engineering; yeah a girl, go figure‑ and the rest of the gang were willing to leave him alone without a babysitter.

Which was good, because the only way he could cope was to fall back on old habits, and he’d been having a tough time only being able to do it in the shower.

The pain and rhythm of a belt on his arms and legs had always helped him feel better.

He started back to classes again, and forgot to hold back.  He’d been being careful.  Careful enough to only graduate at 16. Careful enough to only test out of the easy classes. Careful.  He didn’t care anymore, so he walked into advanced programming, sat through his first class, and just looked at the teacher and said, “This is stupid.”

“If you aren’t up to it, Mr. Alan‑“

“I’m up to twice this, it’s dumb, and I’m bored.”

The teacher had been about to snap back at him, but something about his posture, and his eyes stopped the man.

“Here, then. This is the final exam test. You pass it? You pass my class.”  He let him sit down with a computer test that usually took students three hours or more of work‑it was a take home exam.

Riley did it in one.

The therapists argued back and forth between “It will be better for him to be working seriously, getting his mind off things,” and “We don’t want him to burn out, he’s too fragile.”

Riley really didn’t care.

He ended up in advanced computer science classes, as well as some network engineering classes that were actually a challenge.  Slowly, steadily, he came back.

He was wary, now, of anyone who tried to make friends with him, until he was certain he knew what they wanted. Nikki –N‑and Taavi –T‑and a handful of the others who had babysat him during his worst, he trusted; anyone else? Not so much.

He spent more time online anyway.

All the confidence and aggression he found so hard to express in person?  Online he was another person: someone who couldn’t be hurt, who was fast, who was sneaky, who was untouchable.

Taavi and he tried a few fumbling things, and decided, no, it just wasn’t worth it. They were friends. Ok, friends who kissed really well, but Riley didn’t think he’d ever be interested again.  Except maybe in kissing.

Besides, how could he explain that he needed pain, needed to ground himself somehow to know he was real, he was alive.

Because honestly he felt more alive online.

Besides, for some reason he was catnip to girls.

It was awful.  His only consolation was that Taavi had something of the same problem, but apparently Riley had it worse.  Nikki‑who  always treated him like a friend and never once made a pass at him, thank God‑finally pointed out that the skinny, underfed, shy, long-haired look was a “thing” for a lot of girls.

He didn’t see why.

She asked him what he found attractive, which his therapists had asked, and he couldn’t really say.  Motorcycles? Sure.  Leather jackets, ok… but, not always, not… it wasn’t that simple. Taavi tried to help.  They ran a computer algorithm looking over photos of men that Riley had sorted into “attractive” and “not”.  He actually turned it into a salable program. It made money, eventually, because you could program it with what you found attractive and have it sort through online dating services and modeling photos.  It was in use‑at a nice profit per‑ by most of the ad agencies for picking models by the time he graduated.

It didn’t help him.

On his 18th birthday he had a party with his friends, and spent the night online, hacking into various things with Taavi, because they could.

The next day Taavi had a lab project he had to do, and Riley had promised he would go, you know, outside? And talk to people in person? Ick.

So he went to a college mixer thing, because at least there would be pizza…

And his life changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OM4C3uIXk28 Love equation VIXX


	3. Tell Me What To Do

He was at the mixer, and it was kind of fun, and there were some nice people there, and pizza.  The only problem was the whole “catnip to girls” thing. _Ugh_.  This one girl‑no, older: a woman‑ wasn’t bad looking; something about her… was actually attractive?

_Seriously? A GIRL? Why the hell would I ever…_   Her name was Cassie‑ they got introduced at some point‑ and Riley kept looking at her from under his lashes and rubbing his wrists.  He had to get out of here and get to his belt… As he was trying to leave she walked up and cornered him, shoving him against the wall.

He stood there blinking stupidly at her. “I’m not into girls.”

“So I heard,” she said, putting a hand into his shoulder and pushing him back into the wall. “So why not leave?  You’re not drunk.”

“I…” Riley blinked a few times. “I honestly have no idea,” he admitted.

She backed off. “What happened? Did your Dom dump you?”

“What?” He blinked at her owlishly and shoved his hair back and his glasses up his nose.

She pushed his sleeve back to show the bruises. “They’re sloppy.”

He pulled his sleeves down fast, then tried to shove her away and run. She rocked backward when he pushed her and grinned. “Stay up against the wall,” she ordered; he did.  He just stared at her in confusion. 

“Oh, oh, I don’t know whether to feed you a cookie or tie you to a bed,” she laughed. She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him off to her apartment.

She tied him down with padded cuffs and was asking him questions that made no sense, when she stopped.

“Riley?  Seriously? You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“I have no idea, but please don’t stop.”

She frowned down at him. “You’ve never been tied down?”

“No,” he shivered. “It’s wonderful.”

“You have no idea what a safeword is?”

“I… I’ve read about them?”

She groaned. “The bruises?”

“I hit myself, with a belt. It helps.”

“Jesus, Riley, I thought I was playing into a Sub’s  fantasy, not taking advantage of a kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Yes, you are.”

“If you were a guy, this would be heaven.”  After a pause he admitted, “It’s not bad now.”

She frowned at him again. “I may regret this in the morning, but I’m not one of THOSE Doms.” She unstrapped him.  He whimpered.  She dragged a hand through her hair. “Stop that, it makes me want to tie you up and do things to you.”

“Please?”

“I will. Next weekend. IF” ‑she pointed a finger at him‑ “IF you read everything I tell you to read, and  we THEN sit down and have a discussion about consent.”

She gave him a reading list –it turned out she was a teaching assistant, so reading lists were her thing‑ and shoved him out the door with a muttered, “Ought to be a warning label on these kids.”

It was a reading list on BDSM.  It was rather different than the porn he’d seen: it had a lot of discussion about consent, altered states of consciousness, and ethics.  He read it all, and started following references and links.

He was on her doorstep an hour early, pathetically hopeful.

She fed him dinner, muttered about pretty boys, and grilled him on the reading like it was a PhD defense. Apparently he passed.

That weekend was heaven. She flogged him‑and yelled at him for not safewording earlier; he admitted it felt too good. He found out that he was insanely turned on by control; by being ordered around‑ especially nude. She never had sex with him, for which he was grateful‑girls really weren’t his thing, but she liked him to rub her feet, and kiss them, and he could do that.

She turned him loose Sunday night to go fall back on his own bed, and he couldn’t get the grin off his face. After that, he was her slave Tuesday nights –paper grading day; worshiping her feet, and occasionally being flogged in the place of those idiot freshmen‑ and most weekends.

His friends noticed he was better within a couple of weeks, and he let them believe it was a boyfriend. Taavi wanted to meet him and be sure he was ok.  Riley rapidly realized he was backed into a corner.

“She… actually.”

Nikki stared at him.  Taavi choked. “She?!”

“It’s not like that‑ I mean it is‑ but it isn’t, and I really wish she was a guy, but…” he trailed off and they were still staring at him.  He cringed. “She’s… different.”

Nikki glared at him; he tried to get smaller. “Call her. We’re going to meet her.”

They arranged to meet at the pizza place off campus, and Riley wished that the ground would just open up and eat him.

“You two KNOW him?” he heard Cassie say, sounding incredulous.  He looked up into shocked expressions on Nikki and Taavi. 

_Oh, of course they know her: it’s not that big a University._

Then Nikki squeaked out, “Mistress Cassiopeia?”

And Riley  said, “you KNOW her?”

And Cassie‑Mistress Cassiopeia‑ said, “Why the fuck didn’t you two bring him to the club?”

And Taavi was just staring at him and started to laugh. “Only you, Riley-Q. Oh my God, only YOU.”

 

It turned out Nikki was another top, although softer, and Taavi played switch, and there was a BDSM  club  in one of the houses not too far off campus, and he had become the personal  Sub of one of the  known Doms.

They laughed themselves silly, and Riley’s stomach unknotted. They told Cassie about the bad break up, and he told them about the belt. They finally got kicked out of the pizza place so they could close.

That was the happiest year of Riley’s life, because she took him on a leash to the club, and everyone knew he was her Sub.  It was horribly humiliating, and he loved it.

Then, like all things good in Riley’s life, it had to end, when she got a job teaching on the other side of the country.

“Be a good boy, Riley.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Come visit me when you can.”

“Always.” He grinned at her, “Besides, someone has to fix your computer.”

She ruffled his hair, “Brat.”

And walked away.


	4. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW Bad BDSM behavior, non consensual scene, ignoring safewords, going past limits  
> (all chapter titles are Kpop songs)

Later, Riley would hate himself for not seeing what was going to happen.

Not everyone in the club was good people. After all, they were people, and not everyone is good, or nice, or even reliable‑Riley knew that. 

What he didn’t know was that  having been the personal Sub of Mistress Cassiopeia, a lot of the other people, including some who had been excluded from the  group for bad behavior, saw him as a prize to be picked up, as a trophy.

All Riley knew at the time was that he was popular, and there were an awful lot of people who were happy to tie him up and play, and if some of them played awfully hard? Well, he loved it, and he was horrible at safewording anyway.

Nikki was in the middle of her senior projects, and Taavi wasn’t in the room, when he agreed to go to someone’s house for some privacy.

He was blond, and dangerous, and exciting, and he was at the club, and people knew them, and that meant it was safe‑ didn’t it?

He’d agreed to be gagged and didn’t realize they hadn’t worked out a non-verbal safeword until it was too late.  He was pushing past Riley’s emotional limits, and hitting on all his worst issues, and Riley had no way to stop him.  The pain was well within his limits; the words‑not so much.  Then he shared Riley with two of his friends, and no one even tried to ask his opinion.

They threw him out the next morning.  He made it back to his room and collapsed. Taavi found him, and they both knew the university would do nothing, and the police would do nothing, and Riley sobbed into Taavi’s shirt.

Taavi made him call Cassie the next day. Cassie came down that next weekend and helped put him back together.

Then she helped Taavi and Riley take them apart.

Cassie didn’t know computers‑ not like that, but she knew how to find out who it had been‑they were bragging about their group “scene” with Riley‑ and she was a Professor: she knew exactly how to destroy them.

Taavi and Riley worked their way into their computers and systematically deleted selected papers, replaced the final proofed versions with rough drafts, and how many people actually check before they take their final papers to be printed?

Riley discovered that Taavi was sweet, and, while vicious, he lost his venom quickly enough; but Riley…

Riley had been burned too many times.  He no longer trusted.  He would never leave the club with anyone again, he would never see anyone except in public, or with people he trusted.

And he kept track of people who proved to be untrustworthy, in case they tried again.

Of the three men who abused Riley’s trust, one of them would forever after have his taxes audited, but, luckily for him, he did in fact go on to lead a reasonable life.  The other two?  One of them was somehow caught when he tried to embezzle funds from his employer‑ for some reason the computer files wouldn’t delete.  The other one had enough money gifted to his wife, when she finally left, that she could get a good lawyer, and after that his bad behavior became increasingly public, until it ended in what could have been an accident, or could have been suicide.  That would be in years to come, however.  THAT year they only found their papers destroyed, and no way to prove that anything had been done.

“You’re wonderfully vicious, Mistress,” Riley said, his head resting on her knee when he visited her months later.

“Never cross a bureaucrat, Riley,” she smiled. “We can do more damage than some gangster with a gun.” She smiled down at him. “So can pretty boy computer geeks.”

So they went on with their lives, and Taavi tried to help by topping for him, but as good as Taavi was at it, they both agreed they preferred their domination games by computer‑ and online, Riley was a top.

Taavi graduated, and went home to his family in Russia, but they kept in touch.

Quatermain Riley Alan graduated and got a job, and found out that as much as some people were wonderful boyfriends, no one was able to reconcile the submissive in bed with their coworker or boss. 

Eventually Riley vanished, and reinvented himself as Alan Riley and a few other names, and made his living selling software, and contracting work, and if a few banks got hacked? And a few people who deserved it had their digital lives destroyed? Well, a boy needs a hobby.

 Riley was worried for T because of the violence against gays in Russia, and felt better when he was visiting London.  He shouldn’t have worried about Russia; he should have worried about London.  They got jumped by a gang coming out of a club on one of Taavi’s visits back.

 


	5. Fantastic Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All titles from K-Pop songs

If I’m going to die, at least they won’t get Taavi. Riley thought as he launched himself into the gang, screaming.

They had been leaving the club, just two friends, not even lovers, but apparently looking enough like two gay men to attract this lot. They had only made one mistake, Riley supposed: Taavi had martial arts training, he could fight, and Riley didn’t, but Riley didn’t care about the pain.  What was a fist, or a stick, compared to what he did for fun at the clubs?  His body was softer and thinner than Taavi, but far more used to this.

Still, there were five of them still up, and Taavi was down, bleeding and still, and Riley only had adrenaline and a screaming need to defend his friend.

Until the other man showed up.

He had a gun, although he only used it once, and only to hit one of them in the leg, but when they turned to swarm him there was something in his ready stance and faint smile that told them this was a bigger, better predator.  The remaining ones scattered, leaving one man behind screaming from a leg wound, and several down from the fight.

Riley almost tried to attack the man when he came close, as he was curled around Taavi murmuring, “Don’t die, please God, Taavi, don’t die.”  But he’d pulled out a phone and called people, and there was an ambulance and police, and Riley woke up in a room with Taavi, and a nurse telling him he tried to kill anyone who separated them.

The other man gave Riley a card, and said something about knowing people who were hiring.  Riley took it out of thanks, but just said, “I can’t think about anything until he’s ok, he was only visiting… he was only visiting me.”

Luckily, Taavi woke up the next day.

“You don’t have to stay here.  It’s a hospital, they suck.”

“I won’t leave you, T.”

“At least go get a bath, Q.”

“Alright. That… that sounds good.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, you know that.”

“Get me that guy’s phone number?”

“What? Which guy?”

“The guy with the gun. I remember seeing a guy with a gun.”

“I thought you were unconscious you doof!”

Taavi fluttered his eyelashes at Riley in his usual joking fashion, “I am never so unconscious that I don’t see a cute man.”

Riley smiled, “He was cute, wasn’t he?”

“More your type than mine.” Taavi smiled, tiredly, “I don’t normally like them so dangerous, but I’ll make an exception, and he had nice muscles.”

“I’ll be back, Taavi.”

“Bring pizza.”

Riley went home, logged into his computer, and proceeded to hunt down the men from the gang.  The ones arrested led to the ones who hadn’t been, and he started his programs to find them and track them.  Then he showered and went back to the hospital.

Taavi looked better, and worse: he was more alert‑ and clearly high as a kite from the medication‑ but the bruises were horrible.

“Don’t give me his number, yet, I look a mess,” Taavi actually giggled faintly from the bed.

“What did they give you?”

“No idea, but I bet it sells for a good bit.”  Taavi pulled Riley in for a sloppy kiss, much to Riley’s shock, and whispered, “They interrogated me‑ some kind of cops. Why?”

Riley froze. _They couldn’t know about my hacking the bank, could they?_ “You really are drunk,” he heard himself say as his mind spun.

Taavi had connections in Russia, they never spoke much, but it wouldn’t surprise Riley to know it was something high up. He’d been able to come to University here, after all, and he was a brilliant hacker… But it could be Riley they were after, with his hacks of the bank, and the attack program that took down a few selected targets.

Or it could be just the usual problem of a gang attacking a foreign citizen on holiday?

“I hope your Visa isn’t being a problem,” Riley glanced at him and mouthed, _Russia?_

“Let me play on your phone?”

Riley handed him his phone. He sent three text messages. “My family will get me home, Riley.”

Riley leaned down and kissed him, whispering in his ear, “See you online, L14R. I better run.”

He spoke to the doctors about his condition, wandered slowly through the hospital cafeteria, and then out.

Riley looked down at his phone: alerts were reporting queries into his identity as “Alan Riley”, but so far all of them official looking‑just suspiciously timed.

He went back to his apartment and prepared to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is very worrisome to have people give you the HAPPY drugs and then send in the "not quite cops" to talk to you... and hackers are skittish.


	6. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> while appropriate as a chapter title, yes it is a K-Pop song

The automated alerts increased in frequency. His entire life was being studied‑ credit cards, taxes, rent, insurance‑ but it all seemed to be legit.  That was very bad, because it meant police or, more likely, intelligence agencies.  Intelligence agencies looking for hackers were a BAD thing.

Riley wondered if the gang had been them, too.  If it turned out it was, he would burn them to the ground.

T would be okay­‑ having a foreign national die or vanish after he sent a distress call was just too messy‑ but Q?  It was time for Alan Riley to vanish.

Alan Riley walked out of his apartment heading back to the hospital to visit his friend.  He never arrived, and no one ever saw him again.

*

Boothroyd – still Q for a few more days‑was watching with interest as R, soon to be his replacement, gave the briefing on the incident that had involved one of the off-duty agents.  It had to go to M, after all, when an agent of hers shot someone‑in London.

“I’m not sorry,” Dalton said again. “Those two just walked out of the club and that gang of thugs went after them. I only shot to wound, and then I called the police.  It’s lucky I did: the Russian kid was pretty badly hurt.”

“The English one was pretty badly hurt also,” one of the medical staff- Kelsey- said, looking at the files.

“He was? He didn’t act it.” Dalton shrugged, “Adrenaline I suppose.  He was doing his best to take them down but”‑ he grinned‑ “completely hopeless in a fight.”

R frowned, “Well, we have an issue- several actually.  The Russian victim apparently has influential family. We were informed through the embassy that he is going home, immediately.”

“That’s odd, you would think they –“ Kelsey said.

M spoke up for the first time: “Not odd at all‑ some damned fools tried to question him after he got his pain medication. He’s either terrified because he isn’t a spy, or because he is.”

R shrugged, “Well, we have the background dossier on the local lad, in any case.”  He handed the file up to Dalton.

Dalton glanced at it. “That’s him, alright.” He handed it to M.

M looked it over and closed it. “Well, I want the gang found, just to be certain it wasn’t actually something political.”

Everyone nodded and went on to the next order of business.

*

Q watched as Taavi got signed out by the embassy people.  He watched online as the plane left Heathrow. He left a message on one of their drops telling T to check in once he was safe.

Then he went back to making several people’s lives a living hell.

Gang members suddenly found their accounts drained, and their taxes flagged.  Several of them were supposed to be complying with terms of parole, and their files suddenly showed non-compliance.  At least one of them had a drug task force show up by mistake at their door‑not to Q’s surprise they found drugs. Q grinned and all of them had their credit card information transferred to a few of his hacker friends out of country.

It wasn’t enough, but it would do.

Now if he could just shake the feeling that he was being stalked.

*

M was surprised to see Boothroyd‑no longer Q‑ sitting in on the weekly meeting.  She nodded at him; he smiled back with his grandfatherly eyes twinkling happily‑never a good sign.

R shuffled some papers nervously. “We have an issue.”

“We always have an issue,” M said drily. “Which one today?”

“Regarding the case where Dalton discharged his weapon?”

Everyone nodded.

“The Russian national was indeed flown out of the country, but… errr… the Brit appears to have vanished.”

“What do you mean ‘vanished’?” Tanner asked.

“He hasn’t returned to his apartment, and apparently he sent in his lease cancellation.  His credit cards are untouched, his bank account shows no activity, and he didn’t even show up at the hospital to see his friend off.”

Old Boothroyd chuckled happily. M felt ice running down her spine‑ she turned to look at him.

“Do you have anything to add, Major?”

“Oh, just recalling a similar experience from my youth; I’ll be happy to speak to you about it later, M. Do forgive an old man his eccentricities.”

M nodded uneasily, and looked back at R‑Q now‑“I assume we have a watch out for him?”

“Yes, M,” he nodded.

She looked at Tanner, “Put some feet on the ground, there’s always a chance that this is spycraft, but the target was Alan Riley.”

They went on with work. She noticed Major Boothroyd asking people in Q branch to help him with some computer items.  She wished she believed that it was relevant to helping the new Q take over the department.

He puttered into her office late that day and closed the door. He reached over and adjusted some items on her desk absently, turning on the jamming  for the office.

“What can I do for you, Q‑ Major.”  He’d been her Quartermaster.  He’d been here before her, and it was just somehow wrong not to think he would be here forever.   _I must be getting old._

“We all get old, my dear,” Boothroyd said with a chuckle, reading her with ease. “I need to talk to you about young Alan Riley.”

She blinked, “Very well.”

“He needs to be brought in, alive.  We need him for Q branch.”

She felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on. “We don’t even know what’s going ON yet, Major‑“

His voice was very gentle, “You’re slipping, dear girl.  Stop thinking like a bureaucrat. Look at that file again and tell me what doesn’t fit.”

From anyone else she wouldn’t have tolerated it. She pulled the file and looked it over: went over the reports from Dalton; went through it all. Boothroyd sat pleasantly peeling an apple into one long continuous ribbon with his umbrella knife.

“I don’t see‑“ And then she stopped because she did. Her hand flashed to the phone. “Get Dalton on the line.”

One fortunate thing: when M called, people moved. “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Alan Riley.  When you were waiting for the ambulance, he said the Russian boy was in London to visit him?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, hold on the line.” She put him on hold and stared at Boothroyd.

“There is nothing in this file to connect Alan Riley to that boy.”

Boothroyd smiled paternally, “Yes, dear. It’s an alias. A well-constructed one, but Alan Riley never existed.”

“Another Russian?”

“No. I had some of the branch run some information down for me.  It was easier to backtrack the Russian.  Your people should have thought of it.”

M cursed vehemently and got out her pain medication.

Boothroyd continued, “I backtracked young Taavi‑his identity is true‑ and found that he went to school with a young man matching our Alan Riley.” He smirked faintly, “Whose name‑ confirmed by Birth Certificate‑ is Quatermain Riley Alan.”

M stared at him; then she actually laughed. “Seriously?”

“I presume the parents were as much fans of the genre as yourself, my dear, and with a last name of Alan…”

M shook her head. “So he IS English?”

“Oh, yes.  And younger than you think: he graduated with multiple advanced degrees at a very early age,” Boothroyd smiled, “in computers.  We need better people on computers, M.  I left the file for you‑ his real file.”

She nodded her head. “Thank you, but I don’t think we can guarantee bringing him in.”

He smiled at her and shook his head. “Think.  He created a new identity that looked that good. He vanished, and more.”  He wiped his blade off on his handkerchief. “The gang that assaulted them has been bedeviled beyond all reason, and the best people in Q branch can’t figure out who’s doing it.  when obviously it’s young Quatermain.”

“Find him, M,” he said firmly. “He’ll be your new Q in not many years.  It’s a new era, and you need him.”

“I can’t even BEGIN to promise that!” she said, staring at him. Even as she said it, all the times he’d miraculously handed over the perfect equipment for the job‑ before it could have been known to be needed‑ was running through her mind.

He stood up, putting the blade back into his umbrella. “You will find him, Double-O Three, and you will give him a chance to prove himself. I’m calling a debt.”

OO3‑M‑ stood up as he left the room. “Very well, Quartermaster.”

“Do let me know how he works out? R was the best we had available, but he’ll be much happier working on the engineering.”

And Boothroyd left MI6 for the last time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boothroyd (Q ) became SUCH an important character in this series, he features prominantly in Highland Games (one of Bond's backstories) too.


	7. Confession

M had to admit, the young man might very well be worth bringing in on his own, even without Boothroyd’s insistence.

They hadn’t found even a whisper of him online, but the feet on the ground had spotted him twice.  Once he was grocery shopping, and the agent hadn’t realized who he was until it was too late.  Once though, agents had almost gotten him, but he ducked into the Underground and vanished‑eluding two of her better agents, who obviously needed more urban tracking training.

*

Q was getting panicked.  _Those were NOT just police, and they weren’t giving up_.  Not for the first time, he considered moving out of the country, _but you couldn’t get a decent cup of tea anywhere else._

“Fuck, I’m pathetic.  Whining about tea.” He stared into the mirror and tried to give himself a pep talk, “Which is more important, Riley? Bloody tea? Or keeping your hide in one piece?”

He simply had to find out WHO was hunting for him‑ and maybe why.  He locked himself into his new flat and focused his attention into the digital world.  Alan Riley was gone, Quatermain Riley Alan was holding on, but 1nfiltr8r was the best there was at getting into places he shouldn’t. 

Q smiled into his computer, “Okay, you want to play? Let’s see how well you hide. Your turn.”

*

MI6 had a database breach, but luckily nothing seemed to have gotten out.

M called an emergency meeting.

“It’s him.  He must be brought in immediately,” M said firmly.

“We could send a few Double-Os after him…” someone suggested.

“There are only three I would trust to bring a skittish asset in from the cold, especially since he doesn’t know he’s an asset yet.” M frowned. “There isn’t anyone he trusts, unfortunately.”

Q‑ the new Q‑ spoke up hesitantly, “There… may be? Ma’am?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Dalton.  He saved their lives; he’s likely to be viewed as… well, friendlier anyway.”

“Excellent.” She nodded at him, “Good thinking, Q.”

Dalton was called in, briefed, and sent out into the field.

*

“What did I do to deserve this?” Dalton thought to himself after a fruitless day spent trying to find a young man, who didn’t want to be found, in London.

He found his steps tracking back to one of his favorite clubs.  It was only after he was sitting in the club, nursing a drink, trying to figure out how to avoid being killed by M‑ or worse‑ that he realized he was in the club it all started in.

“Right, well, a last drink I suppose,” Dalton muttered, then threw back the rest of the drink and started coughing.  He was wiping his eyes when a very familiar mop of brown hair caught his eye… _No. No way._

*

Riley was trying to get drunk‑ no, he was trying to get unconscious.  _God-damned MI6 was after me. I am so dead.  What did I even DO to be worth that nightmare?_ He’d expected MI5, maybe… not MI6.

_And they had my file, with my true name_.  It was only a matter of time before his other aliases got found _.  And that explained those people in the Tube…_ He forced himself to drink some more of this stuff.

A dangerously attractive man, smelling faintly of scotch, slid in to the seat next to him.

“Hi, Alan.”

“Oh, God, can’t I just die in peace?”  Riley put his head down on the bar.

“Uh… remember me? I helped you get to the hospital?”

“Of course I remember you, Mr. Sexy-As-Hell and T wants your number.”

_Oh, Holy SHIT he was drunk_ , Dalton realized. Then he blinked. “Sexy? Me?”

Alan Riley sat up and wobbled on the seat.  He poked a finger firmly into Dalton’s chest. “You.  You are  sexy.  That’s just trouble.  It’s always trouble. You should run away because there’s more trouble‑ they’re after me.”

Dalton contemplated the tranquilizer he had to capture his target, and considered the likely blood alcohol level of the skinny man in front of him.  _That would probably kill him._

He hit the automatic call for a pick up.

“Ok, Alan… Come with me, I’ll take you somewhere to sober up.”  He steered him to the exit. Luckily this was a usual hangout for him‑ he just told the bouncer the truth: “He’s too drunk, I won’t do anything, but he needs to get someplace safe.”

The bouncer made note of his name. “Yeah, he was here when we opened and he’s been drinking steadily.”

Dalton poured him into the MI6 car, and got in after him.

Alan tried to open the door despite the fact that they were moving.

“Woah!  No way, we’re getting you someplace safe.” He looked dubiously at Alan. “Please don’t puke on me.”

“You should run, MI6 is after me…” and Alan passed out into his lap.

*

M was called into medical only to find Dalton.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out finding our target?” she snapped.

“I did, Ma’am.” He nodded at a bed with a thin young man with a mop of brown hair in it. “They’re trying to get some of the alcohol out of his system right now.”

M stared at the figure on the bed, and back at Dalton _. Less than 12 hours, and he’d FOUND him?_ “Are you responsible for his current state?”

“No Ma’am, he was drinking himself into a stupor when I found him.” Dalton looked warily at her. “He tried to get me to run‑ said MI6 was after him.  I think he was panicked.  He doesn’t normally have more than a couple of drinks, according to the bouncer.”

M had started to move toward the bed, and stopped. “Where did you find him?”

Dalton winced, “The club it all started at, Ma’am.”

She looked surprised and then nodded at him, “Good thinking.”

He refrained from telling her he’d been about to do the same thing Alan was doing.

*

Riley woke up in a hospital.  When he tried to get up, he found he was locked to the bed.

“Fuck.”

“Alan?” a vaguely familiar voice said, nearby.

“Blind as a bat without my glasses,” he croaked, “and if you are a merciful person you’ll kill me or get me tea.”

The cute guy with a gun, the one who had saved them, put his glasses on his face and said, “Hold on.”

He came back with tea, and sat the bed up. “I can take one of your cuffs off, but only one.”

Riley looked around. _This was very bad_.  Also, he had an IV. “Then I suppose the one without the IV.  Please don’t talk to me until I’ve had tea,” he said morosely.

Dalton sat there looking surprised. Riley drank three cups of tea, forestalling all attempts to talk until he finished the third.

“There, now I’m human.  I would hope you’d have the decency to wait to… do whatever… until I had enough caffeine to think straight.”

“I’m Agent Dalton. How much of last night do you remember?”

Riley looked at him dubiously, “Oh, God, was I trying to snog you?”

Dalton grinned, “A bit, yes.  You also called me sexy.”

Riley sat back with a moan, “Just shoot me now.”

“No one is going to shoot you.”

“This is MI6, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“I don’t even know why you lot would be AFTER me.”

A woman’s voice spoke from the door, “Yet nonetheless, you managed to evade us for quite some time.”

Riley looked over and stared.  M stared back.  Riley dropped his eyes and started to flush.

“Quatermain Riley Alan?” she said, and her voice was steel command.

“Yes, Ma’am. Please call me Riley.” _Ooooh shit, this lady made Cassie look as cuddly as Nikki…_

M was sizing him up quickly: he’d gone completely passive as soon as he saw her.  He was young, and she knew a lot of even the most troublesome agents could respond to a grandmotherly type, or a schoolteacher.  She obviously pattern matched to an authority figure.

“Riley,” she said, softening her voice. “We are not going to shoot you.  Everyone has been quite impressed.”

He looked up at that.  She nodded at Dalton, “We sent Agent Dalton to bring you in because it was suggested you might not run from him.”

“Oh.”

“I’m called M: it’s my title. “

“YOU’RE M?!”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“No, just the title…” He started babbling at her, “Look, I’ve never even DONE anything worth MI6’s attention, I mean nothing really, and‑“

“Stop babbling,” she snapped. He closed his mouth with a click.

She blinked.  _Well, obedience was a nice change from the Double-Os…_ Dalton was trying to pretend he wasn’t utterly baffled and fascinated by this.

“We would like you to come to work for us, Riley.  It means that you don’t go to jail for breaking into our servers.” He flinched but didn’t say anything.  _I could get used to this_. “And it means you get access to  a lot of what Q branch refers to as ‘toys’.”

Riley laughed and clapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

M raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Q… that’s me. I’m Q.”  He looked at them both. “Taavi was T, and I’m Q.”

M inhaled sharply, Boothroyds’s words ringing in her ears:

_“Find him, M. He’ll be your new Q in not many years.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why, yes, Boothroyd (Q) features very prominently in the backstory... now that you mention it. go read "Highland games" too (Chapter 3)


	8. Super Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't ask him to hack your system if you don't mean it.

The security interview was downright painful, especially his “connection” to Taavi, but once he pointed out that there was documented evidence that they had, in fact, roomed together for most of University, no one could argue much about them being friends. Riley was barred from telling anyone that he worked for MI6. He stared at the security person making this pronouncement and looked at M, his lips pressed firmly together. “I’m certainly not going to ADVERTISE it, but if you think Taavi didn’t know I was being hunted, and won’t draw the correct conclusions when I suddenly stop talking…”

“You may inform him that you were caught and have agreed to work for the government in exchange for not being prosecuted,” M acceded. “However, I suggest you imply that you work for a different branch, given the complex relationships between our countries.”

Riley frowned. “I probably know more about the online side of that than any of you,” he said grumpily.

M looked at him, “Which is precisely why we need you. Welcome to MI6, R.”

“R? For Riley?”

“No, it has become something of a tradition.  R is the designation for Q’s second.”

“You only just HIRED me!”  he said, staring at her.

She gave him her most terrifying stare, the one that sent Double-Os‑ except for Bond, of course‑ scattering like quail. “You managed to evade our entire department, R‑ I expect you to correct that deficiency on our side. That’s an order.”

To her surprise he just ducked his head and said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

_I could definitely get used to this_ , she thought.

*

R ripped through the computers in Q branch, and all their so-called experts, in three days.  He had the staff of the IT department at his throat the first week, and converted into loyal followers by the second.

It was almost enough to overcome the problem Riley was having.

_There were far too many really sexy guys.  Seriously, like all of them.  The ONLY safe place to hang out was the tech departments, and even then you had… agents… that would come in for equipment, or to scare people._

He’d been there a week when he met his first Double-O, and he almost came in his pants.  The man came in, snarled at all of them about equipment, and the Quartermaster threw him to the wolves‑errr, wolf.  He only managed to keep himself together by wrapping himself up in snark.

He eventually confided in Francis, one of the other gay men –he worked in accounting‑ over dinner at a local pub. “How do you DO it? My God, the man was sex incarnate!”

Francis looked moodily down at his food, “Mostly, you give up.  Sadly, the Double-Os usually are only interested in conquests and moving on, assuming they even bother with us.”

They’d talked all night, commiserating on bad choices.  Francis left him with one parting warning, “Oh, and if you thought THAT one was bad? Wait until Bond gets back.”

“That bad?”

“That bad, and terminally straight. Dammit.”

*

~Months later~

Riley‑R‑ was complaining for the umpteenth time about the horrible state of the security. “Anyone could hack in here!  It needs to be redone, top to bottom!”

“Alright, if our security is so terrible, why don’t you prove it?”

“Easy.”

After a consultation between M, Tanner, and Q, along with a few of the best computer people, they set a challenge: get into the building by Noon tomorrow.  They would deactivate his security ID until then.

He agreed, and they arrived early the next morning to plan the surveillance.  They were deep in discussion of what entrance R might try to use when the intern putting down their coffee cleared his throat and said, “Yes, well, about that…”

Five pairs of eyes stared at R in shock.

“HOW?!”

He shrugged. “Never left the building. You didn’t say I had to.”

*

The next time Q escorted him out of the building at the end of the day.

“See you tomorrow!” R waved cheerfully.

“After Noon, no doubt!” Q said firmly.  _He couldn’t possibly get back in by Noon._

He was sitting in the office with donuts when they arrived the next morning.

M stared at him, and then turned to Q, “Did you not say you escorted him out?”

“I did.” Q was staring at him.

R‑Riley‑ waved, “Donuts?”

Everyone sat down and Tanner asked him quietly, “How?”

“Turned around right away and told the guard I forgot my ID in the office.” R shrugged, “He’d only just signed me out, after all.”

*

They tightened orders on letting people in without ID

He walked in‑ in different clothes than yesterday, so he’d been home‑ at 9 on the dot. “Morning,” he said, going over and opening the computer. “Looks like Double-O Five has been busy…”

“I took your ID!” Tanner said staring at him.

“I escorted you OUT!” Danielle said sputtering.

“I will have that guard’s head if he let you in without ID,” M said firmly.

“Nope, went through the auto check-in door,” Q said, sipping his tea.

“You hacked the door?” one of the other techs said in terror.

“No, I hacked the ID.  You might want to let Oscar in, his ID is missing,” he said, tossing Oscar’s ID on the table.

They let Oscar in and didn’t try again for two weeks.

M was smiling at him when he saw her; it made him a bit uneasy.

*

They drove him home, patted him down, and drove away.

He was in the office, with his own ID, at 8 am, talking an agent through downloading some data.  They didn’t get to talk to him until the day was over.

“How? Seriously, how?!” Tanner whispered.

“I really should stop telling you. Can’t you just accept that you need to let me re-do your security?” He looked thoughtful.  “Besides, why not let one of the Double-Os test it?”

M smirked, “Because most of our Double-Os idea of testing security is a bit too lethal, and the two I would trust to do so are on assignment. How did you do it, R?”

“I had a second ID.  Reported the first one damaged in a lab accident;  since it never left the building, they didn’t deactivate it. Sloppy.”

*

“NONE of this is testing our computer defenses,” Q huffed.

“You never asked me to test your COMPUTER defenses, you asked me to hack your ACCESS.  Hacking is all about finding the easiest way in.” R nodded at everyone. “The easiest way in is through the people.”

M smiled at him approvingly, “Very good, R.”

Several people looked at her in shock.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, ducking his head and blushing slightly.

“CAN you hack the computer access?  To get to the data?” she asked.

“Easily,” he sighed.

Q looked dubiously at him. “So far you haven’t.”

“What do you want me to get out of the system? And obviously you will need to get me a computer that doesn’t already have the log in codes.”

They got him a computer, factory fresh from the box, and sent him after some planted data.  Q refused to let him out of the conference room lest he go down and charm it out of accounting.

“Just so you know, this method takes a lot longer than hacking people, and a REAL hacker would be using specialized scripts, and would have done more advance work.”

“So consider this to be a test of our security at its hardest,” Danielle nodded.

Two hours later Q sat there, playing colorful games on his computer.

“I thought you were supposed to be working?”

“I am, I have a script hacking the passwords,” R said calmly, as colorful blocks tumbled and winked across the screen.

“Where did you get a script to do that?  This isn’t your computer?”  Q frowned, and looked at Tanner.

“Your computer skills are in the dark ages, Q,” R said, reaching over for his tea. “Downloaded it.”

“This is an easily available program?” Danielle asked.

“Yes, standard script kiddie stuff, although I admit I probably knocked a few hours off it by narrowing down the search.”

The computer chimed quietly.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“You CAN’T be!” cried Q.

“Uh huh.” R turned off the game and started typing, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“What are you doing now, R?” Danielle asked.

“Now that I’m in the system, I need to hack into the right area and get that data.  It’s faster to do THAT myself‑ a script would take too much time.  Besides, I put in a few alarms  myself, and they should stop the scripts.”

Q was muttering, “It’s not possible,” and, “Oh, my God,” as he watched what was flashing across the screen.

“You put in defenses?” Danielle asked quietly.

“I thought stopping people from hacking in was my job.”

“It is,” said M.

“So Double-O Seven is due back from Malta in five days? I look forward to meeting him.” _No, I don’t. Bond is straight._

“How do you know THAT!” M snapped.

“Because the first system to fall was the active mission status, with the communications from Q branch.” He looked up at her, “Do you still want that silly data? Or will you let me fix this yet?”

Q sat down heavily. After a few moments he said, “M, I would like to tender my resignation. I will of course remain to assist the new Q in  the transition.”

R looked up, “Danielle can handle it, I’ll help… and Q, you’re REALLY good at cars and things‑ you should stay and work in your field.”

M nodded. “You will be transferred to the engineering branch, Q‑ or should I say, E‑ the new Q will be in charge of redoing the security and computer defenses.”

R smiled at Danielle, “Congratulations‑“

“Not her, R‑ you,” M said softly. “The former Q, Major Boothroyd, was right: we need you.”

The new Q looked up at her with wide startled eyes.

_I finally get to FIX this?_

_Oh. Fuck._


	9. Crazy (Guilty Pleasure)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond and Q, before the first kiss  
> contains scenes of extremely dubious consent (canon typical bond adventures)

Riley hadn’t been Q‑again; this time officially at MI6‑ for more than a week, when he was told that he needed to meet Double-O Seven, the legendary James Bond.  They’d somehow managed to never be in the same place during the time Riley had been in MI6, but he’d seen the wake of devastation the man left behind.

He never returned equipment in one piece.  The previous Q‑ now E, working in a facility outside of London‑ had warned him that he was the worst about that.  Apparently the man’s predecessor, Major Boothroyd, had adored him, and let him get away with bad habits. 

According to the office gossip, he apparently never returned a woman untouched either- although none of them seemed to mind.

The gossip about his intellect, though, was mixed.  A lot of people didn’t think he was that intelligent, just very good at killing things‑and seducing people.  A few stated outright that his skill at seduction was more responsible for his survival than his skill at arms. Oscar –Q’s archnemesis-turned-best-helper from the tech department‑ shook his head at Q over pub food.

“Nope,” Oscar said firmly. “They got it all wrong. The man’s a genius.”

“His official records list his IQ as‑“

“Whatever,” Oscar said dismissively. “Q, you know how a smart person’s eyes are… different? How they follow the conversation differently?”

“Yeah.”

“I watched Bond at a Tech briefing, once, with all the Double-Os‑“

“How did you survive a briefing with all the Double-Os!” Q sputtered.

“I didn’t. I’m a zombie,” Oscar intoned solemnly. “Anyway, Bond followed it‑ you could see it.  Besides, he’s M’s favorite.”

“I thought she hated him?”

Oscar snorted beer out his nose. While drying himself  off , he said,“NO! They just…” He shook his head. “LISTEN to them sometime: it’s like listening to me and my brother go at it.”

Q blinked, “So they argue a lot‑and it sounds like it’s about to be murder‑but if you laid a finger on him, she’d knife you?”

Oscar looked at him. “You have siblings?”

“No. But my neighbors had eight kids.”

“Ah.”

*

He went to meet James Bond at an Art Museum.  He could handle this‑ after all, he’s just another Double-O, and he’s straight anyway; even Oscar agreed with that.

_Oh, dear God, the man was gorgeous, and sullen, and  SNARKY…_

_I’m dead. I am so, so dead_.

He got back after that first meeting‑ holding it together on snark and arrogance‑ and stayed in a cold shower as long as he could.

*

_Bond destroyed equipment by terrorizing it.  The equipment passed notes about him and if any piece of equipment found out it was going to go with James Bond, OO7, it spontaneously combusted. That was the only explanation._

*

He deliberately seduced women just to torment Q branch‑ Q, in specific.  He also found the best camera angles to screw them under, knowing that whoever was on the other end of the tech call had to watch.  No wonder he’d bedded every female communications person in MI6: after listening to THAT, they just jumped him when he came back.

Q desperately wanted to.

*

“How do you return NEGATIVE equipment numbers?!” Q waved the paperwork at Bond.

Bond blinked, “That isn’t actually possible, Q,” he said reasonably.

“You not only destroyed every piece of equipment we sent you with, you borrowed equipment and destroyed THAT.”

“Oh!” Bond nodded, “Yes, then that makes sense.” He stood there smiling politely.

“I want you to return the equipment in ONE PIECE, Bond.”

Bond just smiled that predatory smile that made Q weak in the knees and nodded, “Promise.”

*

“One… piece.  You promised,” Q whispered, and for once wasn’t even looking at Bond. He was staring at the steering wheel of what had once been a customized car.

“Errr… It is one piece?” Bond had the grace to sound apologetic.

“Get out.”

*

There were three women, total, in the military base: he seduced all three of them. Then he found out that one of the men wasn’t: he seduced her, too.

*

“You called, on the secure line, at 3 am, to ask me how to cook a what?”

*

_The mission in Peru.  Dear God, the mission in Peru._

The hotel maid hadn’t seemed like anyone special, but Bond zeroed in on her with uncanny instincts. Q had been the one on shift –it being a holiday, he let the married and family folk go home‑ and so it was just him in the office as Bond cornered her in an unused bedroom.

“You’re not who you seem to be,” Bond had growled at her.

She’d threatened to scream. Bond had kissed her; she’d bitten him‑ he didn’t care.

He pointed out that she still hadn’t screamed. “Why not? Don’t you want to get rescued? Or are you afraid you’d get caught?”

She’d claimed she wanted to seduce him; he’d laughed. “Well, then, you get what you want. So you’re saying this is voluntary?” he’d smirked down at her.

She’d insisted that it was, but she kept trying to get to the door.

Bond held her down on the bed and ravished her.

Q had always wondered about the word “ravished”, but that was all it could be called, really.  Bond was rough, and bruising, and marking her with his mouth and his hands, and making her love every minute.

Q was whining and came twice before she did. _Thank GOD for empty offices_.

By the time Bond was through with her, she was begging him for more‑ and she sounded a LOT more sincere.

Then he started asking her questions.  Q had to admit that HE was about to answer the questions, and he was just WATCHING.

Turned out she was a spy, trying to leave her handlers and defect.  Bond brought her home to England.

Bond could have brought her home on a leash, Q suspected.

Q had to fake a cold to avoid being in the office when Bond came in to return the remains of his equipment.  He couldn’t have held it together after that.

*

“I am not a tour guide, Bond.”

“Well, where would YOU go to pick up girls in this city? I’m bored and it’s cold.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“If you wanted to.”

Q vindictively sent him to a gay nightclub.  Bond never said a word about it, but Q had the sullen feeling that he’d picked up a waitress or something.

*

“So, hypothetically, Q: how would you disarm a nuclear bomb?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can see, Q's interest in Bond was an existing attraction well before he ever got kissed, and before Moriarty started playing on it.  
> and you final find out about the hotel maid in peru

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.kpoplyrics.net/vixx-chained-up-lyrics-english-romanized.html  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqzBrI76e4g


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